


kairos

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Cursed Storybrooke, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family Reunions, Grief/Mourning, Mental Institutions, Mild Language, Soulmate-Induced Color Vision, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: It can happen in the blink of an eye.  Just a handful of milliseconds can tilt life on its axis irrevocably, for good or for ill.And you never know which it is until it’s too late.(A S6 finale soulmates AU)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alqua_Taari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alqua_Taari/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lost moments [fanart for kairos by ariestess69]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931654) by [Alqua_Taari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alqua_Taari/pseuds/Alqua_Taari). 



> Date Written: 13 June - 19 September 2017  
> Word Count: 19100  
> Written for: SQ Supernova II: Cygnus Summer Celebration  
> Artist: Alqua_Taari  
> Art link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11931654  
> Summary: It can happen in the blink of an eye. Just a handful of milliseconds can tilt life on its axis irrevocably, for good or for ill.
> 
> And you never know which it is until it’s too late.
> 
> (A S6 finale soulmates AU)  
> Spoilers: Canon divergent AU of the S6 episodes 06x21 "The Final Battle: Part 1" and 06x22 "The Final Battle: Part 2." But for shits and grins, just consider everything we know of all six seasons to date up for grabs here.  
> Warnings: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mental Institutions, Altered Mental States  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Okay, so let me explain something about this fic. I chose to do this fic as a way to reconnect with Emma Swan and kind of make her my own in the wake of the fuckery that happened with Jennifer Morrison leaving _Once Upon a Time_. I liked the idea of the soulmate trope, particularly with the whole "seeing color when meeting your soulmate/losing color when your soulmate dies" trope. And since I usually write SQ from Regina's POV, I really wanted to give Emma a shot at the primary POV and try to reconcile my issues with her destruction over the years of the show. Unfortunately, I don't think that's happened. I have struggled with this fic from day one. I've done a couple of different restarts, and spent an entire month or more completely locked up in writer's block over chapters 4 and 5 of this fic. And in the process, never once did I truly feel comfortable enough with Emma to consider this anywhere near my best work. I am not entirely pleased or comfortable with this, and feel that it's not my best work at all. I don't say this to elicit any kind of reassurances of my abilities. At the same time, I knew that I made a commitment to finish this fic, and I did. I have even more issues with Emma right now because I struggled so badly, but I have come to the conclusion that I can salvage her and my ability to write SQ by limiting her POVs to either alternating chapters with Regina or just writing primarily from Regina's POV again. I'd rather make these sorts of concessions than completely lose the ability to write for them.
> 
> The art set that is involved is [this set](https://www.derwentart.com/us/us/4613/2300477/derwent-majestic-commemorative-wooden-box-pencils-and-accessories-limited-edition-150-count%20) from Derwent. Amazon lists it as $400, which is what I figure Regina actually paid for it when she bought it, though she'd be willing to spend the $1500 for Emma.
> 
> The dialogue spoken in Chapter 1 is taken from the pilot episode.
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as usual…
> 
> Special thanks: First and foremost, thank you to the SQSN mods for being _so_ patient with me in the process. I am eternally grateful y'all didn't boot my ass. Secondly, thank you to Alqua_Taari for her gorgeous artwork. And lastly, a _HUGE_ thank you to SearchingApples for being such an incredibly kickass cheerleader for all three of my projects in this big bang. She went so far above and beyond the call of duty, and words cannot express my gratitude.
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl, who is always such a gift to be able to beta last minute for me…

_**kairos** : (n) a time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action :the opportune and decisive moment_

~*~*~*~*~

It can happen in the blink of an eye. Just a handful of milliseconds can tilt life on its axis irrevocably, for good or for ill.

And you never know which it is until it’s too late.

~*~*~*~*~

Emma never has to worry about what to do on a daily basis. The hospital keeps her on a pretty strict schedule.

Wake up at six and shower. Nurse Ratched loves to slam the door of her room open. Clearly the woman has a perverse sense of torture-laced humor. She'd file a complaint, but who's going to take the word of a nutcase over the staff tasked with watching over her?

Breakfast at six-forty-five. Plain, thick oatmeal with raisins, a mealy apple, and a large glass of whole milk. Some mornings, she gets an overripe banana instead of the apple. The oatmeal and milk are enough to shut her stomach up, and they're better than most of the breakfasts she got in foster care.

Morning meds at seven-fifteen. She swears Dr. Hopper said that one should be taken before she eats, but every time she tries to bring it up, Nurse Ratched says that's she's mistaken, so she's just stopped saying anything. Too many infractions and she gets a little solitary time, and that shit scares the hell out of her.

Individual therapy at seven-thirty for ninety minutes. Dr. Hopper has been working with her on the delusions that put her in this hospital in the first place. It's been three years now, and she knows what she has to do to get out of this place, but something keeps blocking her.

Recreational therapy lasts from nine until eleven. The projects change up, but mostly she paints because it's the only thing she's even remotely good at. She has portfolios full of swans, crowns, apples, and daggers, and every conceivable combination of the above. Her sketchbooks are similar, but she's more experimental there. It's the only place she'll attempt the portraits of her family. Henry, of course, encompasses the bulk of those, but occasionally her wife makes an appearance.

Lunch comes after that. She looks forward to lunch every day. It's the best meal of the day, just like when she was in foster care and got her school lunches. It was often the only decent meal she got each day, and she found ways to trade with people for extras to eat on the way home from school. She can't trade here, of course. That's frowned upon because they need to have balanced, nutritious meals.

But the real reason she likes lunch every day is what comes next: naptime. She didn't even get scheduled naptime when she was in jail. Back then, she had nothing to look forward to when she slept. Now? She gets to see her wife in her dreams. The burnt cinnamon of her eyes when she was happy, the olive skin that flushed so nicely when embarrassed or aroused, the red as sin lips that she never tired of kissing. The colors are vivid and so _real_. She hates having to wake up, but she does, and she cherishes those two hours more than anything.

Group therapy comes after naptime. It takes the first half hour of the two hour slot for everyone to be awake enough to actually talk coherently. Well, there are a few people who never get coherent. She always does the bare minimum required in group, hating to bare her secrets, her issues, with these strangers.

Afternoon meds at three-thirty, followed by the only free time she has all day from three-forty-five until five-thirty. She tends to stay in her room then, working on sketches of her dreams or just working out. It all depends on how her dreams and group go.

Dinner tends to taste like better than average TV dinners, but it's palatable enough to fill her belly. That's all she can ask. After dinner is free time for two hours, usually spent zoning in front of the TV, then forty-five minutes of journaling about her day as part of her therapy process. Last meds are at eight-forty-five and lights out is at nine. She hates lights out because they lock the doors. It makes her feel like she's back in prison, which she is in a way, and the anxiety kicks in hard enough each night that Dr. Hopper prescribed meds to help her sleep. They cause total blackout sleep, no dreams to help her through the long hours, and she wakes up groggily at six a.m. with the slamming of her door to start the process all over again.

This is how it's been for nearly four years. Henry visits some afternoons, when his foster mother allows it. She finds it strange sometimes that he was adopted by one mayor of Storybrooke and now is fostered by her replacement. The new mayor -- three years is hardly new, but that's how she sees the woman -- doesn't like it when Henry visits. She feels it hinders his ability to move on from his own delusions. Emma isn't exactly sure where it came from, but she has a deep hatred for the new mayor of Storybrooke. She has to hide it in order to see her son, so she does what she must.


	2. Chapter 1

Shades of grey. The entire world is nothing but shades of grey. Just as it has been from the day she was born, with two exceptions. The day Henry was born and the year from when he found her in Boston until the day that they lost his adoptive mother.

The day Henry was born is one she'll never forget. For about thirty seconds after he was born, the whole world exploded into a riot of colors that made her eyes hurt. But she can remember the pale blue of his blanket and wondering if that was what the summer sky looked like. That burst of color made her pause in her decision not to hold him. What if he was her soulmate and that's why she saw the colors, but the minute the nurse took him from the room, everything faded back to shades of grey again. It wouldn't be until that fateful night he showed up at her door that she'd see colors again. But she never forgot the brief infatuation with that particular shade of blue.

The day he showed up to her apartment though? That's a different story all together…

~*~*~*~*~

_23 October 2011  
Boston, MA_

_What a crappy birthday_ , Emma thinks as she trudges into her apartment and kicks off the heels that are actually a bitch to run in. It's times like this that she wishes she was a man, so she could collar bail jumpers without killing her arches and ankles. But they don't all need the promise of a hookup to be lured in and caught, so there's that.

She drops her bag and sets the cake box on the island, letting out her breath in a long, exhausted sigh. She wants nothing more than to eat her treat, open a bottle of Jack, and pass out after a long soak in the tub. Another deep breath, helps push away some of the negativity that's dogged her all day as she opens the box and sets the little cupcake on the countertop. Fishing out a star candle from the package, hoping it's that same light blue she loves so much, she sticks it into the cupcake and lights it with a wooden match. The smell is oddly comforting and she wishes it would linger longer. Melancholy fills her, making her heart ache as she acknowledges that she's alone on her birthday again.

"Another banner year," she mutters, then closes her eyes to make her annual birthday wish.

_I wish I wasn't alone for my birthday just once._

Taking a deep breath, she blows out the candle with a resigned grimace, then blinks when the doorbell rings. She should answer the door, but she just stares at the cupcake. More specifically, she can't stop staring at the star candle that's the exact same shade of blue she's been obsessed with for just over ten years now. _How in the hell?_ When a knock sounds at the door, she shakes her head and stands up to answer it. Seeing no one at first, she nearly closes the door until she glances down to see a boy standing in front of her. She hasn't had enough alcohol yet tonight to be thinking that this kid vaguely looks like the bastard that got her knocked up and locked up.

"Uh, can I help you?"

And then she realizes she can see that his eyes are a fascinating shade of mossy hazel. She's not even sure _how_ she knows that color, but she doesn't fight it either. The grey and red of his scarf also stand out to her, and she isn't exactly sure what's going on. Everything else around her is still shades of grey, including herself.

"Are you Emma Swan?"

"Yeah. Who are you?"

Nothing Emma can do would ever prepare her for the boy's next words.

"My name's Henry. I'm your son."

Not even the presence of color in her otherwise black and white world.

~*~*~*~*~

The rest of their conversation is honestly a blur to Emma. She doesn't even remember changing her own clothes, let alone agreeing to take the kid home. Not that she really has a choice there. If he really is her kid -- and the more she's around him, the more likely it is, and not just because of the colors -- she knows he'll say he's going back, but he'll take off immediately and do something else.

Plus, she can't help but feel some sort of connection to him. Seeing colors, even a limited palette, around him can't be a coincidence. She wants to know he's safe, and all of his stories about fairytales and evil queens are scaring her. She remembers kids in the system who would retreat into themselves the longer they stayed in the homes, but she never saw it in a kid who successfully left the system. What fresh hell could he possibly be trying to hide from? He looks healthy and is clearly smart as a whip. While she knows those aren't guarantees of a lack of abuse, this kid just doesn't give off that vibe.

The drive to this Storybrooke is relatively uneventful, even if the kid lies to her about his address. And when they pull up in front of the mayoral mansion, it takes everything in her not to gawk. No way that Henry can look this good and come from this home and be abused in the way he says. He's just a kid who wants to find somewhere he belongs. And that is _not_ with her.

As they head up the walkway to the front door, she tries to reason with him again, but he won't listen.

"Please don't take me back there."

"I have to. I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you."

"I don't have parents."

That pulls Emma up short. Is this kid not really adopted? How else could he be fostered so far from… Wait. Are those shrubs _green_?

"Just a mom, and she's evil."

Oh. _That_ again.

"Evil? That's a bit extreme, isn't it?"

Henry scowls, not looking up at her. "She is. She doesn't love me. She only pretends to."

"Kid… I'm sure that's not true."

She no more than utters those words and the front door opens. For a split second, the person in the doorway is nothing more than a black silhouette against warm golden light. _Wait! What the hell?_ And then the woman is racing down the walk toward them.

"Henry!" She sounds frantic as she pulls the boy into a hug, and she's not setting off Emma's superpower. "Henry… Are you okay?" Her voice hardens slightly, making Emma pause. "Where have you been? What happened?"

Henry pulls away from her roughly, his face distorted in disgust. "I found my real mom!"

He takes off into the house like a demon's on his ass. And maybe it is. Belatedly, Emma realizes he's left her alone with this complete stranger. _Fantastic._ As the brunette turns to face her again -- _Wait! Brunette?_ \-- her expression is a mix of lost pain and confused anger.

"Y-You're Henry's birth mother?"

Emma feels uncomfortable and tucks her hands into her back pockets out of habit, meeting the woman's eyes and shyly saying, "Hi…" And nothing else comes out as she finds herself drowning in the deepest brown eyes she's ever seen. She hears another voice, but couldn't repeat what is said if her life depended on it as the brunette smiles brightly at her.

"How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?"

~*~*~*~*~

The rest of their conversation that night is a complete blur to Emma. It takes everything in her not to gape, slack jawed, at all of the colors suddenly invading her world. Once inside and under better lighting, she realizes that there are flecks in the woman's -- _Regina's_ \-- eyes that turn them a shade of burnt cinnamon that she can't get enough of. The cider is tasty, but it pales in comparison to the beauty of the olive-skinned woman standing in front of her.

There's a weird interlude with the town sheriff, which explains the voice she'd heard earlier, and then it's just the two of them and a sleeping Henry in the house. She willingly follows Regina to a cozy, but sterile home office, grateful for the fire warming the room. The conversation continues as she sips at her glass of cider, startled by how good it tastes and how strong it is. Emma would put money on the fact that it's more potent than the Jack she was planning to drink tonight to celebrate her birthday.

She may not remember much else from this night, but she knows that, after twenty-three straight years of making it, her birthday wish has finally come true with the most beautiful woman she's ever met. She doesn't want to leave, even as she tells Regina she doesn't belong in Henry's life after this long, but she knows how she is with relationships and sticking around. But as she makes her way toward the town limits, Emma Swan can't deny that there's a part of her that wants nothing more than to pull a U-turn and go back to spend more time with her son and his adoptive mother. Maybe if she can show Henry that Regina's not a bad as he says, it'll make a difference. Then she can go back to her life and be like his Skype buddy or something.

But that wouldn't let her get anywhere near one Regina Mills, and she wants that more than anything right now…


	3. Chapter 2

"Swan, you've got a visitor."

Emma looks up from her sketch book, frowning because no one visits her except for Henry.

And today is not the day Madam Mayor Fiona Pierce, lady for the people, has designated for Henry's weekly visits. Oh, he still defies his foster mother to see her, just as he had in the early days before she and Regina got together. Fiona is far stricter than Emma remembers Regina ever being. Even before the curse bro-- 

_No, Emma,_ she scolds herself, _no more delusions. Henry needs you to get better. So does Regina._

She remembers the day that changed everything for them. Well, the last one. The rats invading the garage and Regina's beloved gardens. The rat poison she'd bought for Regina on her lunch. The traps they'd baited and set out. The kisses lazily traded as she trapped her new wife against the kitchen counter, a reminder that they were still so much in the honeymoon phase, and the fervent wishes that they never leave.

"That's a lovely drawing."

Fiona's cultured accent breaks into Emma's thoughts and she flushes, quickly closing the book and holding it to her chest.

"You should be proud of your work, Emma. It suits you and could earn you a tidy little supplementary income if you're ever released." Her smile is as oily as a snake oil salesman's. "And you _do_ want to get out, don't you?"

Emma frowns, forcing herself to take slow, deep, measured breaths to stave off the irrational hatred and anxiety that this woman always invokes. "You know I do, Madam Mayor. Henry needs me."

Fiona laughs at that. "Henry needs stability, Emma, something you've yet to prove you can provide him. The boy is fourteen and needs a firm hand to guide and mold him into the man he's destined to become."

"All due respect, _Fiona_ , but you don't have any say about what my son is destined to become."

"Oh, but I do," she replies, a malicious glint in her dark eyes. "You may have incubated him in your womb, but, unlike me, you have no legal claim to _my_ son, Emma. The sooner you remember that, the better for everyone involved."

"You are a heartless bitch," Emma growls, fighting back tears.

"No, I'm realistic, something you clearly need to learn."

"I'm as realistic as you'll ever find, Madam Mayor. Foster care gave me that lesson in spades."

The way Fiona's lips twitch as she fights a smile reminds Emma of those early days in her relationship with Regina. Not that she'd _ever_ be able to replace Regina in any way, shape, or form.

"Of course, you are. That's why you've been residing in a state-run mental hospital for the past three years since you killed your wife and nearly killed your son."

Emma is out of her chair and around the table in an instant, hands clawing toward Fiona's throat.

"You shut your mouth! That is _not_ what happened! You weren't there, you wouldn't know! It was accidental. Both of them were!"

"Swan!" Nurse Ratched's voice cuts through the rage overwhelming Emma. "Sit down and calm down or it's solitary again."

The blood drains from Emma's face and she shuffles back to her chair, knees pulled up tightly to her chest as she struggles to calm down. "I'm sorry," she whispers, forehead resting on her knees. "I'll be good."

Fiona's condescending smile is clear in her voice as she speaks to Nurse Ratched. "I'm sure that won't be necessary. Emma understands the terms of her hopeful release. It's understandable that she be emotionally overwhelmed by memories of her guilt."

"If you're sure, Madam Mayor?"

"I'm positive. Perhaps a little outbreak of emotion is good for the healing process? We all know that any chance of release hinges on healing and atoning for those actions that landed her in this fine institution in the first place."

Emma wants to fight her, wants to wipe that smarmy grin off her face, but she doesn't. She sits quietly, still curled in on herself, forehead on her knees, and tries to calm her breathing. When she does venture to look up, she's startled to see the faintest hint of red bleeding into the deep grey of the woman's lips. Feeling nauseated, Emma quickly drops her head again and forces herself to breath slowly and deeply. When she feels brave enough to glance up again, there's no red there. There's no color anywhere. Maybe it was some sort of hallucination or something. She prays to a god she doesn't believe in that it was an anger-fueled hallucination. She doesn't want to deal with the fallout of seeing colors around this evil woman.

"You look a bit like you've seen a ghost, Emma." Fiona's tone is light, but her eyes burn like a serpent's. "Are you sure you're all right? Perhaps some of those anxiety meds Dr. Hopper put you on would help?"

"How did you--"

Fiona leans in, menace flashing in her eyes. "I know _everything_ that comes into contact with my son. You should know that by now."

"Stop saying he's your son," Emma mutters under her breath, swallowing hard against the rage building in her chest again.

"Swan…"

"I see that you're far too upset to have a civil conversation with me, Emma," Fiona says, standing to smooth the wrinkles from her suit. "I'm sorry to have to cut this short, but we can't have you trying to kill another mayor of this fine town, can we?"

Before Emma can do more than growl, Fiona walks away with a dark chuckle.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nap time is fraught with nightmares after Fiona's visit, the exact opposite of what Emma wants or, more importantly, needs. She tosses and turns, completely uprooting her bedding until she finally pulls the mattress and pillow to the floor, curling up in a ball under her blanket until she cries herself to sleep. She nearly knocks on the door to ask for an extra dose of her anxiety meds, but she knows that will only be seen as more of an issue than the lack of sleep. She can't have anything more added to her file that's negative. That just keeps her from her goal of getting out and getting her life and her son back. She might not be able to get her wife back, but she made a promise the day they got married and she doesn't intend to break it. She'd sooner die.

Her last thought before succumbing to the exhausted sleep of the distraught is that Fiona was wearing the same perfume that Regina used to. On her wife, it smelled like heaven; on the current mayor, it smells tawdry and tainted.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Nurse Ratched wakes her again for group, Emma is a seething ball of unresolved guilt and grief. She settles in the farthest chair of the circle from Dr. Hopper's, just like always, and tucks her knees up under her hoodie. Everyone shuffles in and takes their usual seats, muttering to themselves or each other as they wait for the session to begin. As soon as Dr. Hopper steps into the room, a few minutes late, she feels his eyes on her. _Great!_ She just knows that she's been ratted out to him and that this session is about to get a whole lot more stressful. All that knowledge does is put her more on edge.

"Hello, everyone," Dr. Hopper says as he settles in his seat, a warm smile for each of them. "I trust everyone has been having a good day so far."

Emma zones out as he goes around the circle, asking for information from everyone. It's always the same crap that never changes for them, and she really just doesn't care to know anything about any of these people. Nothing will change for them until they're ready for change, or so Hopper always says. She wants to believe that, but she's still here in this damned institution despite being ready to get out for the last three years.

"Emma? Are you still with us?"

His voice cuts into her thoughts, causing her to blush deeply at being caught, but she takes a deep breath or two and meets his gaze.

"I just want out of here to be with my son." The words are out of her mouth before she even registers thinking them. "I want my wife back. I want to see the world in brilliant, chaotic color like I did for the better part of a year with my family. I want to wake up to sweet kisses that distract us both into needing to race around to get ready before we finally stumble downstairs for coffee and bear claws. I want to look into those eyes that lighten to burnt cinnamon when she's especially happy or darken to fathomless black when she's angry. I--" Emma's words trail off at the lump in her throat. She has to swallow painfully a couple of times before she can continue in a tone that won't break at the slightest provocation. "You tell me what I can do to get that back, and you'll see the greatest success story of your entire career."

The room is eerily silent when she stops talking, and her own breathing sounds too loud in her ears. She wants to pull the hood over her head and hide, hating to appear weak in front of anyone but the two people who love her the most. But she doesn't. Still breathing harshly, she maintains eye contact with Hopper, simultaneously wanting to wipe that sympathetic look off his face and sob into his shoulder.

"Emma, you know that's not poss--"

"Don't tell me what is and isn't possible!" she yells, getting to her feet. She begins to pace, hands alternately raking through her hair and pulling it roughly in a vain attempt to stave off her tears. "Henry is fine. Regina should be, too! How is it that she had to die and take away so much of my life, my happiness with her? If it weren't for Henry, I'd have died that same day that she did. I hate that she left me with the burden of raising our kid alone. I didn't know how to do that then and I sure as fuck don't know how to do it now. I see him once a week and I never got to go to her grave once. It's been three fucking years and all I've seen are pictures that Henry brings me. It's not fair, damn it! None of this is fucking fair. I lost everything the day she died, the day Henry nearly died. He's _literally_ the only bright spot of color in my otherwise dead world of shades of grey."

Before she realizes it, two of the orderlies are behind her, each gripping an arm to hold her in place as Nurse Ratched walks toward her with a hypodermic needle. At that sight, Emma begins to struggle, screaming and fighting against her capture, knowing what's coming. This isn't what she wants, and she knows deep down that it means another negative notation that puts her further and further away from release, from trying to find some sense of normalcy with her son. She begins to plead, babbling incoherently as the tears spill down her cheeks. 

The last thing she remembers is the smirk on Ratched's face in concert with the prick of the needle in her arm.

And then nothing.


	4. Chapter 3

After three days in solitary, drugged up to keep her compliant and quiet, Emma is ready to slit her own throat if that's what it would take to get out. She hasn't seen Henry in over a week now, having missed their scheduled visit due to being reprimanded in solitary, and likely won't for even longer. There's no way Fiona will allow him anywhere near her after this incident. And it's all her fault for instigating it, too. Fiona always wins. The deck is more stacked against Emma with Fiona than it ever was with Regina. She spends the rare lucid moments sketching or journaling about what's going through her head. Dr. Hopper's visits break up the monotony a bit, but not enough to make her feel sane any longer. She doesn't have her pencil collection with her, but she makes do with a simple number two pencil and the sketchbook she's allowed.

The minute she's released back to her own room, she immediately begins to look over her things, cataloging them to make sure nothing's been taken. All of her sketch books are there, as is her box of colored pencils. They'd been a gift from Regina on their one month anniversary, the most expensive set of Derwent colored pencils she'd ever seen. She spent the first week just staring at them and memorizing the colors. She lifts the cover to find the note from Regina still taped to the inside. With careful fingers, she eases the stationery from the envelope. A lovely shade of cream, as she remembers it, with the precise, looped handwriting that her wife learned as a child filling the sheet.

> _My darling Emma,_
> 
> _I know that it's not normal for such an expensive gift on one's one month anniversary, but I had to do it. Please don't be mad. I have the money to pamper you, and you are more than talented enough to warrant a set like this. I actually researched and ordered this for you the day after our first kiss. I wasn't sure what occasion would work for me to give it to you, but I knew you needed to have supplies to match your talent._
> 
> _You are a breath of fresh air and a burst of sunshine on the gloomiest days in the world. Thank you for bringing Henry into my life. Thank you for bringing love back into my life and, with it, color. Of all the wonders of a world in color, your eyes entrance me the most. I could lose myself forever in their splashes and spokes of chaos that meld at a distance into mossy green._
> 
> _Thank you for taking a chance with a hardened heart like mine. I can never thank you enough for what you and Henry mean to me._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Regina_

Tears fill Emma's eyes as she presses her lips to the signature at the bottom of the paper, careful not to get it wet. She holds it to her chest for a moment longer, mind traveling back to that night when she received them.

~*~*~*~*~*~

_12 January 2012  
Storybrooke, Maine_

"What's all this?" Emma asks as she comes into the mansion after work.

She's exhausted from chasing Pongo around, but the work is still exhilarating enough to keep her from hating how dirty it can get her. She can smell Regina's lasagna baking in the oven, and her mouth waters. The woman is a phenomenal cook, and there's nothing of hers that Emma's hated yet, but that lasagna is sin wrapped in the promise of heaven. She grins as she notes how well that description fits her girlfriend, too.

"I thought it would be nice to be waiting for you with a glass of cider and dinner almost done," Regina says as she waits at the top of the three little steps up into the foyer, glass in hand. 

Emma can feel her eyes following each move as she strips off jacket and boots, then locks her gun in the gun safe built into the base of the coat tree. She's never thought to ask why Regina would have such a coat tree before, but she doesn't really care any longer. Finally done, she locks the door behind her and quickly takes the trio of stairs to pull Regina into her arms for a quick kiss. She still finds it completely insane that she can be so in love so quickly, but the colors don't lie. The colors never lie.

"This is a lovely welcome home," she murmurs against those deep red lips. "To what do I owe this delight?"

Regina's lips quirk up, one eyebrow doing the same, as she leans back to look at Emma. "And I need a reason to greet you with dinner in the oven and a glass of cider after a long day of playing doggie chaser?"

Emma rolls her eyes and grins. "No, but you're wearing my favorite color, so it's got to be something special." Her fingers trace the collar of the light blue cocktail dress Regina is wearing. "You know how much I love this shade."

"I do know, dear. You may think I don't always pay attention to the little details, or think that you're being subtle, but really that's not the case." Regina's eyes dance with mischief and she smiles sweetly to take a bit of the sting out of her words. "You are an open book to me, Emma Swan, and yet I cannot stop turning the pages to discover what I can learn next about you."

"I'm not _that_ deep, Regina," Emma replies, gaze dropping in her embarrassment. "What you see is what you get with me."

She doesn't need to look up to know that Regina's lips are pursed as she fights the urge to disagree with Emma's self-assessment. After twenty-eight years of never being good enough, it's still a huge learning curve to get used to being enough for this woman and their son. She never wants to lose that feeling, that sense of belonging that is so vital to her very existence. The silence stretches between them for a moment longer before she can't contain her curiosity any longer and she glances up to see Regina looking at her with soft, unfocussed eyes and a small, sad smile curving the corners of her lips. Emma can't help herself as she leans forward to press a delicate kiss to those lips.

"And what was that for?" Regina asks, voice barely above a whisper, when she pulls back a moment later.

"For loving me even when I'm not sure I can love myself," Emma replies in just as soft a tone. "Sometimes I feel like this is moving too fast, but I can't imagine my life without you any longer."

Regina's open expression is something she can never get enough of seeing. "Nor can I, Emma. Even with all of the bumps we'll likely find in the road, I am on my way to having what I've always wanted. You and Henry make my life better and my days worthwhile." She pauses to lick her lips as the timer goes off in the kitchen. "Go clean up and come back down for dinner. It'll be a few minutes yet for the garlic bread."

Emma smiles sheepishly as her stomach growls. "It'll be my fastest shower to date." She takes a sip of the cider, then one more quick kiss before she bounds up the stairs, two at a time, the sound of Regina's knowing laughter echoing after her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma pushes her chair back from the table, leaning back to pat her stomach with a lazy smile. "Oh yeah, that hit the spot. You, babe, are the best cook I've ever met in my life. What kind of karma points did I cash in to get you as my soulmate?"

Henry doesn't bother to hide his giggles when Regina snorts softly and finishes the last of her own dinner. Emma grins and winks at him across the table as she relaxes there, then turns her gaze back to the brunette to her left. She rests an elbow on the arm of her chair, chin in her palm as she studies her soulmate. She feels Henry's curious gaze pass between the two of them, but doesn't say anything.

"All right, Henry," Regina finally says, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin, "will you and your mother please clear the table and load the dishwasher for me? I need to do something, then we can have dessert together in the den while we watch a movie." Henry's lips part, but she continues before he can speak, "And no, we're not watching _The Avengers_ or _Captain America_ unless your mother specifically requests it. It's her turn to pick a movie, remember?"

Henry closes his mouth in an adorable pout, then turns puppy eyes on Emma, who feels herself ready to give in almost instantly. At the clearing of Regina's throat, he flashes an embarrassed smile at both of his mothers and gets up.

"Sorry, Mom, Emma," he says as he heads into the kitchen with his plate and glass.

Emma grins and quirks a brow at Regina. "What was all that about? You know I like those movies, too, and so you do, for that matter."

"I was merely reminding him that he can't cute his way into getting you to do what he wants," Regina replies with a shrug of her shoulders. "Besides, I'd like to watch something else once in a while."

"All right, that's fair," Emma replies, standing to add Regina's plate and silverware to her own. In the process, she leans over to press a kiss to Regina's hair. "Why don't you go get comfy in the den and we'll come join you when we're finished here? I can bring in dessert. Ice cream tonight, right?"

"And you two each get one of the big cookies in the Tupperware container on the counter, too."

"You get one, too, babe."

Regina shakes her head and glances down briefly. "No, I'm already going to need to do an extra couple miles to work off this meal. The ice cream will be enough for me."

"But--"

"Emma, it's okay. I sampled enough when I made the cookies earlier," she says with a smile.

Emma nods slowly, knowing already not to fight Regina when she's in a mood like this. "Okay, babe, the kid and I will be just a few minutes here. Go pick out what you think I'll want to watch. I'll tell Henry that I gave you my pick this week for making such a great dinner for me."

She watches Regina nod and accepts the brunette's kiss before heading into the kitchen. The smile remains on her face as she and Henry make short work of the task before them. He takes the news of her movie choice as well as can be expected for a ten-year-old boy who is still getting used to having both of his mothers in his life. She lets him pick out the cookies, knowing he'll grab the two absolute biggest ones he can find in the container. If Regina hasn't figured this out yet, or that he'll handle every single cookie, then she doesn't know their son very well.

Once they have the ice cream dished up and the cookies picked out, she lets Henry have a glass of chocolate milk, then they carry everything into the den. They find Regina curled up in the corner of the couch, a blanket settled over her lower half and a book in her hand as she waits for them. But it's the brightly wrapped box on the coffee table that catches Emma's attention.

"Is that for me?" Henry asks excitedly as he sets his milk on a coaster on the table, then reaches for the package. His face falls as he reads the tag, then he tilts his head at Emma. "It's for you, Emma."

Emma blinks at his words, then looks at Regina, who simply offers her a small, secretive smile. She takes the time to set the tray down carefully, then sits next to Regina and wipes her hands on her jeans. "This is for _me_?" she asks, needing the clarification that it's really hers.

"Yes, my dear. Open it?"

"But--" She picks up the package and sets it on her lap. "My birthday and Christmas have both passed. I don't understand."

"Read the note and you'll understand," is all Regina says, still not moving from her place on the couch, though she sets her book aside.

Emma nods and takes a deep breath before she reaches for the cream colored envelope with her name in Regina's distinctive handwriting. Pulling out the sheet of matching paper, she unfolds it and tears up as she reads the words there. She opens her mouth as she blinks at Regina, but the brunette shakes her head and gestures to the package. Taking the silent cue, Emma replaces the letter in the envelope and sets it next to her before she unwraps the package. She takes her time, wanting to save the paper. She's never been sentimental about such things, but this is different. She ignores Henry's impatient little noises and savors the thought that Regina loves her enough to do something special like this. When the last of the paper is removed, she stares at the wooden box for a moment before opening it. And then the breath is stolen from her lungs as she looks at the collection of pencils, charcoals, pastels, and paint supplies within. The tears spill down her cheeks as she studies the collection, pulling out each tray and drawer with shaking hands to touch each item within.

"Oh my god, Regina," she finally croaks out, turning to face her. "I can't--"

"Yes, you can," Regina replies vehemently, tearing up herself. "You deserve every penny that was spent on you, and don't you dare try to contradict me on that."

Instead of answering her, Emma carefully closes the box and sets it on the coffee table, then leans over to cup Regina's face in her hands and kiss her as if the world were about to end. She can hear Henry giggling and making gagging noises in the background, but ignores him, concentrating more on pouring her love and gratitude for her soulmate into the kiss. The soft moan that she swallows from Regina only reminds her of just how perfectly her life is finally going, and she vows to any god listening that she'll do whatever she has to in order to keep this happy family of hers.

"Thank you," she whispers raggedly when she finally pulls back from the kiss to rest her forehead against Regina's. "This is the most precious gift anyone's ever given me outside of our son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  The Derwent [art set](https://www.derwentart.com/us/us/4613/2300477/derwent-majestic-commemorative-wooden-box-pencils-and-accessories-limited-edition-150-count) Regina gives to Emma.


	5. Chapter 4

Emma glances at the clock, dread filling her senses as she counts down the minutes until her session with Dr. Hopper. Nothing has felt normal since she got out of solitary; nothing except for the gentle familiarity of the art set from Regina. She carries a sketchbook with her constantly now, but only works in graphite unless she's in her room. No one touches her art supplies without her permission and since no other patients can enter her room without her permission, she knows they're safe there.

She looks down at the sketch she's been working on this morning. A picture of Regina and Henry together and smiling. It's one of the last good memories she has of them before the accident happened that changed their lives entirely. They'd been eating breakfast, the three of them, and Regina started a food fight that wound up leaving them all covered in flour, whipped cream, and strawberry bits. In the picture, Henry's face and hair are smeared with white, a smattering of red here and there, and a huge dollop of cream on his nose. His eyes are wide with surprise, crossing as he tries to focus on the addition to his face. Regina's forehead is resting against his temple, eyes closed with delicate crow's feet more pronounced around them as she laughs, nose wrinkled up and mouth open. Emma remembers having taken a picture of it at the time, but she doesn't have her phone now, so all she has is her memories to draw on, as unreliable as they've been due to the meds.

It was only a few days after this event that _It_ had happened. Emma struggles to breathe slowly and deeply as she tries to resist the lure of falling into the memories of what put her in this damned hospital in the first place. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Today, she wishes desperately for the former, but knows deep down that the latter will likely win. She coughs and scrubs roughly at her face, not caring if any of the pencils' color streaks her skin. It's not like she can see it anyway. With another deep breath, she picks up the green that she has always associated with her son's eyes, working quietly to bring his face to life on the page.

A knock at the door startles her, but only her quick reflexes keep her from skittering the pencil across the page and ruining it. Swallowing thickly, she moves to put her pencils away in preparation for Nurse Ratched or one of the orderlies to escort her to Dr. Hopper's office. She is not prepared for the door to open, especially not with the voice that carries through it.

"Emma? How are you doing today?"

"F-Fine," she replies, frowning at her slight stammer, then twists her torso around to stare at the man standing in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

Before she can try to apologize for that, he smiles and says, "I thought we might have your session in here today. Is that all right with you?"

Emma nods slowly, not sure what this means, but certain that it's not good. Private sessions only happen in a patient's room when something bad is going to happen. Without thought, she closes up the art box and begins to pull it toward her possessively, fearfully, as Dr. Hopper comes into the room and closes the door behind him. He pulls the solitary straight-backed chair toward her bed where she sits, ubiquitous yellow legal pad and fancy fountain pen in his free hand.

"It's okay, Emma," he says softly as he settles on the chair. "No one's going to take away your supplies. I made you a promise when you came here and I intend to keep it."

"Why are you here?" The words are out before she even fully registers thinking them, rough and accusatory toward him.

"Given what happened in group the other day and how you were in solitary, I thought you'd be more comfortable here for your session with me. If that's not the case, we can go to my office…"

The slight upward lilt of his voice as his words trail off create a choice for her, one that no one else in this godforsaken place ever offers her. They'd all rather she be quiet and pliant to their demands. Only Hopper has ever treated her as truly human and deserving of attention and contact.

"No," she says quickly, offering him a shy smile. "I'm okay here. Can-- Can I keep drawing while we talk? I know that's not normal, but I'm really feeling this today."

Hopper smiles and nods, jotting something on the pad of paper. The scratching of his fountain pen as he makes another notation for her file is almost comforting somehow. "That's perfectly fine. What are you working on? May I see it?"

She feels oddly reluctant to show him, but does anyway. "It's not finished yet," she explains as she angles the book toward him, keeping a firm grip on it with one hand as she points to bits with the other. "It's not fully colored in yet, but it took me a while just to get the sketch done. I just started on Henry's eyes before you came in. The darker olive green is just so perfect for his eyes, you know? And I still need to get the gold and blue flecks in there, and the spokes of cinnamon that are so much like his mother's eyes. Sometimes I forget that she didn't give birth to him, you know? They're so much alike in so many ways."

"I can see that," he replies warmly, but doesn't touch the paper. "You've got a remarkable eye for detail, Emma. Is this something you've come up with or is it based on a memory?"

Emma ghosts her fingers over the page as she speaks, never actually touching it for fear of ruining her work. "It's one of the last days we spent together as a family before…" She swallows thickly before continuing, "Regina was teaching Henry how to make her famous waffle batter from scratch. It's a closely held secret, but they were making breakfast that morning when I came downstairs. I don't fully remember how the food fight started, most likely Henry sassing her good-naturedly, but I know Regina threw the first handful of flour. After that, it was absolute anarchy with flour, whipped cream, and cut strawberries flying around the kitchen. I was trying to stay out of it, but they ganged up on me and got me, too. We were worn out and just starting to slow down when Regina put the whipped cream on Henry's nose. She was laughing so hard, this light, unfettered sound that crushed my heart in its purity, and when she leaned her head against Henry's, I just had to take the picture."

"You have a photograph of this?"

"It's on my phone," she says with a shrug. "I know I'm getting some stuff wrong, but this is the best I can do from memory. I can still see how the bits of red from the strawberry brought out the green and gold in his eyes. And her cheeks were flushed under the spots of flour, making the dusky color of her skin stick out even more. I just…" Emma swallows painfully as her words trail off, tears welling in her eyes. "I miss this. I miss _her_ so fucking much. I will never get this back, you know? Never hear her voice scolding me or laughing with me or anything. The last memory I have of her voice is her yelling at me over the phone, frantic in her self-recriminations for what happened to Henry. She wouldn't blame me, refused to actually, saying it was all her fault. She went to her grave thinking it was her fault for what happened, but it was really all mine. I'm the reason Henry nearly died and I'm the reason Regina did die. And now I'm stuck here, probably for the rest of my life, because I'll never be able to forgive myself."

Emma covers her face with her hands, tears now falling freely down her cheeks as anguish twists her guts into painful knots. The memories flood her senses, good and bad, and she finds herself temporarily unable and unwilling to fight them. The sensation of a gentle hand on her shoulder should startle her, but she leans into it instead, taking the comfort that no one else has been able to offer her.

"It wasn't your fault, Emma," Hopper finally says when she starts to settle a bit. "I know you feel it was, but it was an accident. Both of them were accidents. You can't blame yourself--"

"Why can't I? My son almost died because of the rat poison because I couldn't control myself around my wife. And _she_ died because she blamed herself for not cleaning up the mess more properly before moving on to make dessert for dinner that night. It's all my fault that I have to rely on my shitty memory for colors that used to be a part of my life every day for a year. Now I only see them when I look at Henry, and even that isn't as often as it used to be. The day my world goes completely black and white again is the day I--" She stops speaking then, eyes going round with the horror of what she's just nearly confessed.

"The day you what, Emma?" When she shakes her head violently, he tries again. "Emma, if you can't be honest with me and yourself, you'll never be able to get past this or improve enough to be released and return to your life."

"What kind of life will it be if Regina's not in it? I'm nothing without her. Why can't any of you people understand that?"

She can sense Hopper trying to come up with a gentle rebuttal. The man never loses his temper with her, always finds the easy, non-confrontational way around things. She wishes just once that he'd lose his temper and not be so milquetoast. She can even hear that last sentence in Regina's superior, snarky voice. It both lightens her pain and makes it that much worse.

"What about Henry? Don't you think he deserves a life with you in it?"

"He deserves to have his mother. I brought him into this damned world, but she's the one that raised him and made him into the incredible person that he is. I thought I'd never get over giving him away, even though I knew it was for the best. I felt like a huge failure. And then he came and found me and brought me here, brought me to Storybrooke, brought me _home_. And he brought color into my life. Well, he and Regina did. I remember the color of the blanket they wrapped him in when he was born. It was my favorite color in the whole world, still is. And then I saw flashes of other color with him that night he brought me home, but it wasn't until I took one look at Regina that I realized my whole world had exploded into colors. I had nearly a whole year of bliss with my family, and then…"

"And then? What happened then?"

Emma glares at him, anger two bright spots of color on her cheeks, if she could see them. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're going to make me say it, aren't you? Fine! And then I nearly killed my son, put him in a coma because I was selfish, and then I fought with Regina, which caused the car accident that ultimately took her life. I'm the reason my son has lost both of his mothers and retreated into his own fantasy world to deal with that."

"He hasn't lost you, Emma."

"He might as well have," she replies with a derisive snort. "There is no way that Fiona Pierce or any court in this fucking country is going to let me have access to my son ever again. Regina died before the paperwork could be finalized on me adopting my own son again, and I have absolutely no legal connection to him now that she's dead. And the longer I'm around, the more he tries to convince me that his delusions and mine are real. Fiona's not going to let him come see me anymore after this latest fuckup of mine. All I have left is my memories and my drawings. I'll be in this place until the day I die."

"This is merely a temporary setback, Emma. With a little more work, we can get you back on track with your recovery. You've been doing so well for a while now and--"

"You know she died basically a month before my birthday? Before the day she brought color back into my life? I wish it had been me instead of her."

"Emma, you don't mean that."

Emma lets out a dark laugh. "Even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Nobody's going to let me die. I won't get off that easily for what I did. My family is torn apart permanently because of me. No, I'm here for the rest of my life to suffer for what I caused."

"No, you're not."

"Maybe my art set is involved?" she asks, more muttering to herself than anything else. She strokes the wooden box and its contents lovingly. "Maybe when I've used them all up, when the last of my colors fade away, I will, too. And then I can be with Regina again?" She sighs heavily and glances at Hopper to see the worried look on his face, then laughs again and waves her hand dismissively. "Or I could just be fucking with you to get my anxiety meds up again. That's always possible, right?"

Hopper frowns and writes something on his pad, and she feels his concern and disappointment in equal measures. Emma sighs softly and reaches for another pencil to continue working on her drawing, losing herself in the good memories again.


	6. Chapter 5

_17 September 2012  
Storybrooke, Maine_

"I swear to god, I'm going to burn down that damned garage if it will get rid of the fucking rats!"

Emma looks up as Regina comes storming into the house through the back door. Her hands and face are smudged with dirt, and her jeans are muddy from the knees down. Emma stands up as she watches her wife toe off the shoes worn solely for gardening, then smiles as she steps closer.

"Where did you see rats?" she asks, removing a couple of dead leaves from the mussed dark locks.

"I didn't _actually_ see them, but this should be indication enough that they're still around," Regina replies, holding up a pair of gardening gloves that have more holes than fingers. At Emma's soft snicker, she glares balefully. "Don't, Emma. I am not in the mood right now. If their droppings weren't bad enough, these were brand new gloves."

Emma offers a contrite look and leans in to press a quick kiss to her wife's lips. "I'm sorry, babe. I'll get a couple traps and some of that rat poison that Granny Lucas swears is the best way to fend them off. And if she can keep them out of the diner, with all that free food, then I trust her opinion. We'll work on the traps tomorrow when I get home from my night shift. That okay with you?"

Regina smiles, the rigid set of her shoulders relaxing as she leans closer into Emma's embrace. "That sounds good. And right now, a shower sounds fantastic. Care to join me?" The innocent question is loaded with all sorts of promise of doing anything but getting clean.

"As if I could say no." Emma rolls her eyes with a grin. "What about Henry?"

"He's spending the night with the Tillman twins. Some sort of videogame challenge was issued, and our son can't turn down a dare any more than his birth mother can apparently." Her smirk is teasing, eyes twinkling, and Emma can't help but lean in to press another kiss to those sinfully red lips. "Mmm, save that for the shower, my love."

"I'd race you up there, but my wife is a real stickler about dirt getting tracked in the house and I'm _not_ going to get blamed when your jeans shed their layer of mud and muck all the way up to our room."

Regina purses her lips, the expression morphing into a devious look that both terrifies and turns Emma on like gangbusters. "Then I guess I'll just have to strip here and race upstairs then, won't I?" She reaches for the button on her jeans and winks at Emma. "Wouldn't want anyone to have to call the Sheriff's Station and send someone out here for the ruckus that could cause."

Emma tries to respond, but her mouth goes dry, all moisture quickly traveling south as she watches Regina's fingers slowly pull the zipper down, then shimmy the jeans down her thighs before letting them pool at her feet. She sets a hand on Emma's shoulder as she steps out of them before crossing her arms in front of herself to grab the hem of her Henley to pull it up and over her head. She stands there in a matching bra and thong set in the light blue that Emma loves so much, hands on her hips as she puckers her lips at her wife. Before Emma can even react, Regina takes off like a shot, heading through the kitchen toward the foyer and the staircase that leads up to the second floor.

"Hey!" Emma calls in her wake as the paralysis on her vocal cords is released. At Regina's delighted cackle, she turns around and follows behind her wife. "When I catch you, you are in so much trouble, woman!"

"Unlikely!" is Regina's reply as she begins to round the upper landing toward the top flight of steps.

Emma laughs and takes the steps two at a time, attempting to catch up to her wife before they hit the bedroom itself. She's almost caught up to her wife when something hits her in the face, obscuring her view. All she can see is blue, and it takes several seconds before she realizes her wife is now clad only in the enticing little thong that shows off her ass so well. Stuffing the bra into her back pocket, she continues up the stairs, drawn by the siren's sound of her wife's laughter.

"That was cheating!" she calls out as she sees Regina standing in front of their bedroom door, catching her breath, hand on her chest right in the spot between her breasts where Emma likes to nuzzle most. "You can't use your bra as enticement like the golden apples."

Regina laughs again, actually leaning against the wall for support. "The only golden apples you like are the ones you're currently staring at, Emma Swan. And if you want these apples anytime soon, you need to concede that I beat you fair and square."

Emma slows down as she gets closer, moving right up into Regina's personal space to rest her hands on gently curved hips. Her face leans in until there's bare millimeters between their lips. "What happens if I don't concede victory to you?" Each word blows air across Regina's lips, skin barely brushing, and she whimpers. "That sounds like you might be willing to throw in the towel for a kiss from your wife, Mills. What do you say? Admit that you cheated and I'll make your eyes roll back in your skull tonight." She smirks and waggles her brows.

"Not on your life, Swan!" Regina closes the distance between them to trap Emma's bottom lip in her teeth, tugging lightly. When Emma moans and closes her eyes, she chuckles darkly and lets go. "You are so easy…"

"That's because you cheat," Emma mutters before leaning in to kiss Regina. She grabs both of her wife's wrists, keeping them pressed to the wall as she slowly explores that smart mouth with lips and tongue. Regina's soft whimper into the kiss makes her grin, but she doesn't let up on her slow seduction, keeping a tight grip on arms that try to break free. After a couple moments of kissing, she leans back to press her forehead to Regina's, breathing hard and grinning broadly. "Mmm, that was nice. So, Mills, you gonna admit that you cheated or do I need to do something drastic?"

"What are you going to do? Spank me?"

Emma chuckles darkly as she leans back to study Regina's face. Her pupils are dilated, eclipsing the brown almost completely, and her nostrils flare as she breaths heavily. The flush of arousal that darkens her cheeks has spread down to the curves of her breasts, making her dusky nipples look even more tantalizing.

"If I thought spanking you would get you to learn your lesson, I'd do it in a heartbeat," she finally says. "But we both know that you'd enjoy it too much." She dips her head to bite and suck at the spot behind and below Regina's left ear that drives her insane.

"Fuck, Emma!" she whines, knees buckling. If not for Emma's grip on her wrists and chest pressed against hers, she'd be a quivering heap on the floor. "N-Not fair!"

Emma chuckles and drags her tongue over the spot that is definitely darker, then leans back to smile at her wife with a quirked eyebrow. "I think that makes us even, don't you?" When Regina snorts and nods, she drops a gentle kiss to her lips and releases her arms. "Come on, babe, let's get to that shower, shall we? I have plans for you tonight before I have to head into work."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Emma walks in the front door a little before seven-thirty, exhausted from a boring night spent in the office doing paperwork. Two Red Bulls didn't even help with the sleepiness, nor did her three patrols of the town. All she wanted to do was come home and spoon up behind her wife, maybe fool around a little more to let them both pass out for the rest of the night. But since that wasn't possible, she planned what she would need to do in the morning after her shift ended.

"Hey, babe," she says with a tired smile as she steps into the kitchen. She sets the paper bag in her arms on the island to accept a gentle kiss and a cup of coffee from Regina. It takes a healthy mouthful of coffee burning down her throat before she sees just how tired her wife is. "Did you sleep okay last night?"

Regina shakes her head and sips at her own coffee. "The house was too quiet. I heard you drive by in the cruiser on all three of your patrols. I almost got up to wait out on the front step for your last one, but I couldn't seem to get out of bed."

"Maybe a nap is in order for both of us today then?" Emma asks hopefully, then raises her free hand. "And I do mean just to sleep. We're both exhausted from last night. Not that I regret a single second of it."

"Neither do I," comes the soft reply with a chuckle. "I have to bake turnovers for Henry today. He asked yesterday, and I'd like to get them finished before he comes home from the Tillmans' place."

Emma perks up at that. "Turnovers? Really?" She offers Regina her patented puppy eyes expression, the one that Henry apparently inherited from her. "Is there one for me, too? I mean, I _did_ get you to scream my name three times last night, so…"

Regina snorts at that and reaches into the bag. "You're not going to let me live that down, are you?" She pulls out two boxes of rat traps, followed by a package of cheese cubes and a box of rat poison, before all of the items are returned to the bag. "Oh, you did get these for me! Thank you, Emma. I want to get these set out in the garage and down in the basement before Henry gets home."

"They're in the basement, too?" Emma can't help the faint shiver that travels down her spine. She remembers too many encounters with wild rats when she was a kid in foster care, and she'd rather not have them anywhere in the house.

"No, but I'd rather be safe than sorry."

Emma nods slowly, then frowns as Regina pulls out two pairs of latex gloves. "Uh, babe, what are those for? Are we getting kinky or something?"

Regina snorts and tosses a pair of the gloves at her. "Hardly, Emma. I'd rather wear these while we work with the rat poison and not cross-contaminate. And we'll be working on these out in the garage. As we make them, we set them out, and bring the last couple in for the basement. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that works."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The trap baiting and setting takes less time than Emma would expect, but still makes her tired enough to have lost some of her better judgment. This is how she ends up pulling off her gloves to drop on the island before she pins Regina against the counter, hands massaging her wife's ass.

"Emma!" Regina shrieks before putting up a token resistance to the kisses Emma peppers across her face. "You can't leave your gloves on the island. We eat and prepare food on that surface. Throw them away."

Emma grumbles softly, but does as she's told. The minute the gloves are in the trash, she makes sure to wash her hands before touching her wife again. Her lips gently possess Regina's, hoping to get her wife to join her in bed and put off the turnovers a little longer.

"If I stay with you until you fall asleep, will you let me come back and make the turnovers for our son?" Regina finally asks, rolling her eyes, but there's a small smile on her lips that belies the severity of the eye roll. 

Emma grins broadly and nods. "Deal." She starts to drag her toward the stairs.

"Remind me to clean up the island before I start making the turnovers," Regina says as they head upstairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Regina never ends up wiping down the island when she comes back downstairs, distracted by the orgasmic haze her wife put her in. And she ends up making only three turnovers, one for each of them. Henry digs into his immediately upon coming home from the Tillman house. His is the only one touched. Within fifteen minutes of him walking in the door, Emma is woken up by Regina screaming her and Henry's names.

The next three days are a blur that both speeds by and goes at an excruciating snail's pace as she and Regina camp at Henry's side in the ICU while he lies in a coma from the rat poisoning that tainted the apples in the turnovers. Emma and Regina both blame themselves and spend seventy-two tense hours without more than a handful of hours of sleep between them, keeping watch over their son's pale face. Regina reads to him from the book of fairytales that brought Emma into their lives until her voice gives out, but nothing wakes up Henry.

And finally, three days after this hell began, Henry wakes up. Both of his mothers are beside themselves with relief. They take turns hugging Henry and apologizing for what happened, and all he can do is hug them back and tell them it's okay. Emma goes home for a shower and a change of clothes first, making sure to get Henry's room all ready for him to come home as soon as Dr. Whale approves it. When she returns to the hospital an hour or so later, she forces Regina to do the same. 

As she sits with Henry, unable to stop from touching and kissing his face in her relief, she waits for Regina to return with some of his pajamas and clothes to change him into when he eventually can go home. Her phone rings as she's coming back to his room with a cup of coffee, and she smiles as she sees Regina's name.

"Hey, babe. Did you miss us already?"

"I'm sorry, Emma. Please tell Henry I'm sorry."

"You got it, but you're gonna be here soon enough to tell him yourself, right? Or are you taking a long, luxurious bath?"

"No, I-- I burned the remaining turnovers and I just feel so guilty. Emma, this is all my fault."

"No, it's not, Regina," Emma says, then hears a weird noise in the background. "Wait! Are you driving right now?"

"Yes."

"God damn it, Regina! We've talked about this! Get off the fucking phone and drive. You can talk to me when you get here."

"But, Emma--"

"No! I'm hanging up, Regina, and I won't answer if you call me back."

With that, Emma ends the call, cutting off Regina's words, pissed that her wife is breaking such a simple and inviolable rule for her. She takes a deep breath or two to calm herself before entering the room. Henry doesn't need to know his mothers are fighting.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She never sees her wife alive after that point. When Dr. Whale comes in to break the news to her and Henry, she lets out a bloodcurdling scream and launches herself at him as if it's his fault for what happened. But she knows that it's her fault that her son nearly died and her wife did. The last thing she remembers is the prick of the needle and then nothing but unremitting blackness.

When she regains consciousness again, she learns that she's been placed in the mental hospital for her safety and her son's. She misses the funeral entirely and it's not until that point that she realizes that her world is entirely in shades of grey again.

Except for the brief splashes of color when Henry visits her once a week. And even those aren't consistent. She lives in a haze of self-recriminations and guilt, and doesn't even have a legal foot to stand on when the new mayor, one Fiona Pierce, swoops in to take over her dead wife's job and care of their son.


	7. Chapter 6

It takes almost a full week after being released from solitary before Emma can see Henry again. And it's not through Fiona, which just makes Emma even more on edge about the visit. She feels faint at the sight of him. The red in his scarf stands out so vividly, just like those flecks of gold and blue in his eyes. The tears come before she can even register them, let alone stop them. He runs to her side, arms wrapping as tightly around her as hers are around him.

"I'm here, Ma," he says softly. "Nobody can keep me away, not even _her_."

Emma just clings to him and tries to get her emotions in check. She can smell the laundry soap that Regina always used on his clothes, and it brings on even more tears. At the squeak of a nonskid shoe on the linoleum floor, she takes a deep breath or two and tries to calm down. The fear of being drugged up and possibly carted off to solitary again is deterrent enough for her tears.

"You need to be careful, Henry," she replies back raggedly as she leans back to cup his face in her hands. "I don't want to give Fiona any more reasons to keep you from me permanently."

"She can't. She's not even my mom. She's the Black F--"

"Henry!" Emma hisses, cutting him off. She glances around and sees that no one appears to have heard him. Relaxing slightly, she guides her son to one of the tables in the corner, suddenly needing to feel the pale yellow rays of sunlight on her skin.

_Wait! Pale yellow rays-- What the hell?_

Emma blinks and stares around the room. The sunlight highlights the gold in Henry's eyes, brings out the red in his scarf, but everything else in the room looks as dully greyscale as it has for the last three years. But… Is that a red rose in a vase at the admit desk?

"--you feeling, Ma?" Henry's words bring her focus back to him. "I know it's been a while since I saw you. I'm sorry about that. _She_ wouldn't let me out of her sight until today, so I came over as soon as I could."

"I've missed you, kid, but I haven't been myself." She takes a deep breath and looks around before taking his hands and squeezing them tightly. "I haven't been sleeping as well either. I keep having these dreams of your mom."

"You're dreaming about Mom? What are they?" Henry looks eager, then pauses and frowns slightly. "If they're _intimate_ , then I don't need to know any details."

Emma lets out a short, staccato burst of laughter at his words that gets everyone looking at them. She quiets quickly and shakes her head at him. "I'd never traumatize you like that, kid. I did enough of that when she was alive--"

"Ma, she _is_ alive! She's trapped. The Black Fairy sent her and the rest of our family away. She wants you to forget them and keep them away forever, but you just have to believe. Please, Ma, just believe and remember everything. You can do it. I believe in you, Ma, I always have."

"Henry…" The tears spring to her eyes again as she remembers Fiona's threats. "Please, kid, I can't do this. I'm already gonna have a hard time getting out of here anytime soon as it is. I don't need any more reasons for the court or Fiona to keep me locked up in here and away from you forever."

"But--" Henry starts to protest, but stops at her pleading gaze. "Okay, Ma. Will you just humor me and take the book to read when I'm not here? Maybe you can do some drawings based on what you read?"

Emma wants to take the book, wants to devour it because it will give her another venue by which to remember her wife. But she knows how unsafe this hospital is, and she'd feel horrible if the book should be lost, stolen, or destroyed while in her care. She shakes her head, resting her hand on the leather worn smooth with time. "Tell you what, kid. You make me some copies of the pages and I'll keep those. I can't trust myself with the book itself. I'd never forgive myself…"

Henry squeezes her hand on top of the book. "It's okay, Ma, I get it. I'll make you copies to keep." There's a twinkle in his eyes then. "So have you drawn anything new you wanna share with your favorite son?"

"You're my only so-- Damn it, Henry!" she says with a chuckle, seeing him fail at hiding his giggles.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma's nap that afternoon is far more restful than any of late. She dreams of Regina, but it's not a typical dream. No, those involve memories of happier times in their lives, or dreams of future events. This time though, Regina is in a strange land that looks suspiciously like Henry's storybook. She's wearing an intricate black dress that looks like something out of Henry's book, too. And it feels vaguely familiar to Emma, but she's not even sure how.

 _"Emma? Emma, can you hear me?"_ she asks in the dream, those beloved dark eyes pleading with her. _"Emma, we're trying to come back to you and Henry. You need to be careful. The Black Fairy cursed you and we need you to break it. We need our Savior to help us save the Enchanted Forest and everyone in it, including me and Hook."_

She wonders why Captain Hook should matter to her, why Regina would say that like it's important. She'd ask Henry about it, but that would only encourage him in his delusions. All that matters is that Regina is in her dreams, begging for her help, begging her to believe. She's in vivid color and it makes Emma sob in her sleep with the need to touch her and apologize for everything that happened because of her. But Regina doesn't seem to hear her. It's almost like she's watching her own version of the Princess Leia recording from _Star Wars_ in her dreams. But this is different. It's not the same message on repeat. Regina is saying different things each time she speaks to Emma. They make her head ache worse than the roughest migraine she's ever encountered, but she tries to concentrate past the pain just to have this time with her wife.

The last thing Emma remembers Regina saying before she's woken up by Nurse Ratched is that they need to come home so she can have her honeymoon. There's a strange glassiness to Regina's eyes when she says it, which confuses Emma every bit as much as the fact that she remembers having her honeymoon with her wife.

Without thought, Emma reaches for her sketchbook and starts to scribble down what she remembers of Regina's words in the dream, needing the reassurance that she's not as crazy as she feels she is. She wants to remember those words no matter what. Since no one takes her sketchbooks or her art supplies, she feels these words will be safe there.

~*~*~*~*~*~

For the next several days, Emma is visited by Regina in her dreams every time she sleeps. Upon waking, she writes everything down, slowly piecing together a more cohesive narrative thread. She also begins to suffer from horrible migraines that leave her so debilitated, her therapy sessions are moved to her room until further notice. A couple days into this strange catch-22, she mentions her dreams to Henry, who gets excited about them, which gets Dr. Hopper's attention. He increases her meds in the hopes that she'll be able to break out of the migraine cycle and get better sleep. She sleeps more, which gives her more time with Regina, but the more she concentrates on her wife's message, the worse her migraines get.

As she lies in bed one afternoon, waiting for an orderly to remove her largely untouched lunch tray, she overhears Nurse Ratched talking to someone in the hallway. She can't tell who the other person is, the voice is too muffled. And when she hears the gist of the conversation, she has a good idea who the other half is. By the time her evening meds are brought to her, the anti-anxiety and sleeping pills are doubled. They want her doped up and pliant, which only means that her worst fears are coming true and she'll never see the outside world or have legal access to her son again.

She falls asleep that night to ugly, frustrated sobs that wrack her entire frame.


	8. Chapter 7

_14 February 2012  
Storybrooke, Maine_

"So what are your plans today, babe?" Emma asks as she steps into the kitchen, watching Regina put the finishing touches on two plates before she sets them on the island. "Oh god, that looks and smells incredible!"

Regina smiles and comes around the island to kiss Emma softly. "Good morning to you, too, dear. Have a seat and start eating before it gets cold. Not that food usually gets cold when you're around." Her eyes twinkle as she winks at Emma.

Emma settles on her usual stool, staring down at the plate in front of her. It's full of all of her favorite morning foods: waffles with syrup, strawberries, and whipped cream, crispy bacon that's almost burnt, sausage links, a pair of over easy eggs, a generous mound of hash browns, and one of Granny's bear claws. She sighs happily and digs in, piercing the egg yolks before cutting up her eggs and mixing them with the hash browns, then smiles as Regina sets a mug of coffee in front of her. She eats for a moment or two, indecent moans escaping her lips with each bite.

"You're lucky your son's not awake yet," Regina teases. "You might scar him for life with the noises you're making."

Emma blushes, but shrugs. "He's ten, he won't know what it means." She forks up another bite, but doesn't eat it. "You didn't answer my question, Regina."

"What question is that, dear?" comes the question between sips of coffee.

"What are your plans for today?"

Before Regina can answer, Henry shuffles into the kitchen, yawning. His eyes perk up as he sees the plate in front of him, and he moves to sit next to Emma, shoveling food into his mouth faster than Emma herself does.

"He's _definitely_ your son when he eats this way," Regina teases and strokes a hand over his hair. The gentle rebuke is enough to get both of them to slow down their eating. She sets an envelope next to each of their plates and kisses their cheeks. "Well, it's Tuesday, so take Henry to school, then go to the office and prepare for a couple of meetings before we have the Town Council meeting this afternoon. Henry's going to the station with you after school until your shift ends, then we're home for dinner tonight, right? I'm coming home on my lunch to put a roast in the oven."

Emma nods slowly, focusing on her plate as Regina speaks, eyes glazing over slightly at the mention of pot roast. It's one of her favorite of Regina's regular meals. Nothing beats her lasagna, of course, but there are definitely other favorites. She smiles at the idea of Regina coming home on her lunch hour to get dinner started. It will allow for her to enact part one of her secret plans for the day. She glances over at Henry briefly, amused by his small grin as he mouths _Operation Ring_ to himself before stuffing more waffles past his lips.

"Mmm, pot roast," she says and licks her lips. "You sure know how to spoil a girl, Madam Mayor."

"Not any girl," Regina replies, kissing her temple. " _My_ girl."

~*~*~*~*~*~

While filling out an incident report on her latest run-in with Pongo and his canine exploits, Emma is distracted by the guitar riff from Santana's "Black Magic Woman." She sets the report aside and answers her phone with a grin.

"Well, hello, Madam Mayor," she says. "What can I do for you this fine afternoon?"

"You ca--" Regina pauses to clear her throat before continuing, "You can make sure that you stop by my office before the Town Council meeting so I can properly thank you for these gorgeous roses."

Emma's grin turns into a full-blown sappy smile. "So you liked them? I paid Mo French extra to give you the best two dozen red roses in his entire stock."

"They are the most perfectly beautiful roses I've ever seen."

"You're welcome, Regina, and you deserve them and so much more. Happy Valentine's Day, babe."

"Happy Valentine's Day, dear. I love you."

"I love you, too." Emma takes a sip of her Coke. "I suppose I should get back to work. I don't want my boss showing up unexpected to see me gabbing on the phone when I should be doing my paperwork."

Regina's chuckle resonates across the line. "Yes, she's rather a stickler for that sort of thing, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but I suppose it's okay. I always get to ogle that fine ass when she leaves."

"Emma Swan!"

Emma laughs loudly at Regina's spluttered response, nearly falling out of her chair. "Sorry! I couldn't help myself." She coughs to clear her throat. "So I'll stop by before the meeting. We can show up together, right?"

"I'll see you then, dear."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"All right, you two," Regina says as she walks into the house that night behind Emma and Henry, "jackets and shoes put away. Henry, take your backpack upstairs. Did you finish all of your homework at the station?"

"Yes, Mom, I finished everything. Ma and Ruby helped me get it done," Henry says as he makes his way upstairs with his backpack.

Emma finishes locking her gun in the safe, glancing up with a grin as Regina rolls her eyes. "I swear we were good, Regina."

"Mmm, I'm sure you were, dear." Regina kisses her temple, then walks past her up to the foyer. "I'm going to go change clothes, then I'll check on dinner. Both of you need to wash up and then it's your turn to set the table tonight, Emma."

Emma grins broadly as she stands up. "Not a problem, babe. I got this. You go change. Do you have a wine in mind for dinner?"

"There's a bottle of merlot on the top shelf of the wine fridge, all the way on the left. If you can get that out and open it to start breathing, that would be lovely."

"Merlot, top shelf on the left. You got it." Emma kisses Regina gently, stroking her cheek in the process. "Go get changed, babe. Henry and I got this."

She watches Regina head upstairs before moving into the kitchen. The scent of cooking beef and potatoes hits her, making her moan happily. Emma pulls the bottle of wine from the fridge and sets it on the island to open and breathe as Regina's taught her. That done, she begins to grab the dishes to set the dining room table. A couple moments later, she hears Henry come downstairs. He walks into the kitchen and immediately starts to help her get the table set. Emma grins when she sees envelopes and small boxes by her and Regina's places, and ruffles his hair.

"You're a good kid, Henry Mills. I'm already going to thank you even though I don't know what you got us."

When Regina joins them a couple minutes later, now wearing a pair of faded jeans and a charcoal Henley, Emma whistles softly under her breath. Regina's cheeks darken slightly and she kisses Emma before going to check on the roast.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After dinner, Regina and Emma open their gifts from Henry, each receiving a handmade card and a small box of Russell Stover chocolates. He endures the sappy kisses to his cheeks as a ten-year-old would. When he opens his gift from his mothers, he squeals over the stack of hard-to-find comics, hugging them both tightly.

When Regina stands up to start clearing the table for dessert, Emma and Henry stop her and do the work themselves. Regina does insist on getting dessert ready to bring in for them. As they wait for Regina to bring in her surprise dessert, Emma shifts to pull the small black velvet box from her pocket and sets it on Regina's plate.

Regina comes back in with a red velvet cake, artfully decorated with white cream cheese icing and pink and red hearts all over the top and sides. She pauses in setting the cake plate on the table as the box catches her eye. She glances up at Emma, who smiles tentatively at her.

"Emma?"

"Open it?" is all Emma can get out, and even those two words sound husky to her ears.

Regina settles in her chair and stares at the box for a moment before stroking the velvet with a single finger. She takes a deep breath and opens it, blinking at the ring inside, then glances up at Emma. "I-- Emma?"

At her question, Emma slips out of her chair to drop to one knee next to Regina's chair, reaching for her hand. "I know we've only known each other for like three and a half months, Regina, but I know that we feel right. Things haven't been easy, and we still fight, but you and Henry make me feel like everything is okay. He brought me color initially, letting me see that pale blue blanket they wrapped him in before he was taken away from me. And then he found me in Boston and I saw the color of his eyes and his scarf. When he brought me here, and I saw you? In that one instant, everything was colorful for the first time in my life. I knew I was home. You are my soulmate, both of you are, I guess, and I don't want to imagine my life without you. Regina, will you marry me?"

"Y-Yes!" Regina stammers out, tears sparkling in her eyes as she pulls Emma closer to kiss her. "Yes, Emma!"


	9. Chapter 8

The days start to bleed one into the next, even more than the past three years. Emma blames this on the nearly constant migraines. She dreams of Regina constantly now, even hearing her wife when her concentration drifts. Her sketch book fills with pictures and notes of the things Regina tells her in her dreams. They don't make sense, but in a weird way, as time passes, they begin to make more sense. She even starts to get flashes of what feels like memories of her life with Regina, Henry, and other people that she's sure are just fairytale characters… But they feel so _real_. The best part of the dreams is that sometimes she can actually talk to Regina and be heard. It's only happened recently and it's not often, but knowing that some of her questions can be answered helps.

The colors start appearing more often, too. Sunlight dappling the ugly beige and grey chairs and couches, the green tiles in the bathroom, the navy blanket that's dark enough to be mistaken as black. She's sure that has to be related to the migraines or the meds that Dr. Hopper keeps increasing. She knows Fiona's behind that, but can't prove it. Even if she could, who the hell would believe someone in a mental institution?

Her mind drifts off to the last dream with Regina. Others have made appearances with her: Captain Hook, Snow White, Prince Charming, the Wicked Witch of the West. Others that she just can't contemplate without pain so blinding, she pukes. This last time was just Regina, and it made her feel better. Regina looked so tired though, and all Emma wanted to do was cradle her close so she could sleep. They talked about things that she wanted Emma to pass on to Henry in case she can't come back to them. Emma finds that phrasing odd, but she won't fight anything that gives her more time with her wife.

"Hey, Ma," Henry says brightly, pulling her from her thoughts.

Emma smiles at him, grateful for the distraction from the hell that is her life without Killi-- _Regina_. She blinks at that, unsure of where it's come from. She's not even sure who Killian _is_ , let alone why she'd think of him instead of her wife.

"Ma? You okay?"

"Yeah, kid," she replies and scrubs at her face. "Just this damned migraine, that's all." She looks up at him and tries a small smile. "You know, I'm really sorry your mom can't have kids, or I'd have gotten her pregnant before…" She can't even finish the sentence. It still hurts to know she's never going to see Regina again.

"Wait. How did you know that, Ma?"

"She-- I--" Emma stammers, unable to get the words out, wondering if she's said too much. It was something Regina brought up in the most recent dream. She can't even remember how it came up in the first place, but it's something that clearly upset Regina a great deal. "She told me in a dream," she finally admits softly.

Henry's eyes light up as he sits next to her, setting the storybook on the table. She can see the spokes of cinnamon that match Regina's eyes, and she has to wonder again how he's her kid when he's got so much of Regina in him. "Tell me all about it."

Emma starts slowly, hesitantly explaining her dreams. She fears another migraine attack, not to mention her son's disbelief or disapproval. But he begins to egg her on, asking all the right questions and holding her hand. He frowns when she winces from the pain, squeezing her hand until she relaxes again. She takes more comfort from his presence today than she has in a long time, and it just makes her miss Regina even more. She just wants to wake up from the nightmare that her life has become, wants to be able to have the colorful bliss that life was with her wife and their son. And maybe a little girl that they can raise together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that afternoon, Emma is sitting in her room, half-dozing as she looks at the pages that Henry had copied for her. Her attention is completely captured by a rendering of the Evil Queen in an outfit similar to what Regina wears in her dreams. The blankets are up over her head in an attempt to filter out the light that exacerbates her migraines.

"God, I miss you," she whispers raggedly, stroking that familiar face on the page. "It's been three years and the ache is still as strong as the day you died."

"It really _is_ a shame your wife can't hear you, isn't it?"

Emma looks up sharply, a wave of nausea hitting her in the aftermath. When her vision clears again, she can see Fiona standing there, the storybook in her arms. The smirk on Fiona's face fuels a rage that Emma wants to let out. She can hear Regina cheering her on to let the bitch have it, but the migraine spikes again and she lets out a soft cry.

"Aw, you're in pain, aren't you?" Fiona asks, closing the door behind her as she walks into the room. "Do you know what will make all of the pain go away?"

"My wife coming back to life? And how the hell did you become mayor and get custody of my son? I never heard of you before Regina died. It's like you appeared out of thin air."

Fiona laughs, a low, dark sound. "Oh, Emma, if only you knew a tenth of the things you've been forced to forget."

"Care to enlighten me, bitch?"

Where the hell did that come from? She's never felt like this. And yet, there it is again. Regina's voice in the back of her head. _"That's it, Emma! You're starting to remember. Don't let her stop you."_ The pride in Regina's voice is enough for Emma to throw off the blankets and force herself to her feet. She sways slightly, but swallows down the pain and bile.

"You'd better watch your mouth, Swan. You wouldn't want another black mark on your record to keep you from ever seeing your son again, would you?"

That pulls Emma up short. Henry is all she has left of her happy family. She sighs and her shoulders slump. "What do I have to do?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Just put the book in the incinerator, Emma," Fiona coos in her ear. "Let it burn and accept that these delusions are bad for you and for Henry."

"But--"

"No, no, dear, you know this is what you need to do. If you do this, I'll put in a good word with the proper authorities to ensure you stay in Henry's life. I'll even let him come to visit you more often. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Emma looks down at the book, tears blurring her vision. "All I want is my family," she whispers raggedly.

"Oh, I know you do. Burn the book and you'll get your son back."

Lifting the book, Emma takes a deep breath and nods. "Burn the book, get my son back."

"Ma, stop!"

"Henry?" Emma pauses, gripping the book tighter as she unconsciously brings it to her chest. "What--"

"Whatever she's telling you is a lie. Don't listen to her!"

Fiona grips Emma's arm roughly. "He's a child, Emma, and doesn't know what he's talking about. You know the truth. You know what you need to do to keep your family."

The sudden lance of pain nearly drops Emma to her knees, and she cries out sharply. The book slips into her lap.

"Ma, don't do this! You can beat this. Mom said you're the strongest person she knows." Henry smiles at her when she turns to study his face.

"She did?"

"You know she did. You've been talking to her in your dreams, right? You know she's real, Ma. They need you to believe so they can come back."

"But--"

"Ma, you are stronger when you trust Mom and work together. You two never could've defeated that Chernabog if you didn't. Mom said she wanted it to get her instead of you because you're the Savior and you need to be here to save people and give them their happy endings."

"How did you know that?" Emma stares at Henry, hope filling her eyes. "She just told me that in my dream last night."

Henry smiles brightly. "I know she did. She told me to remind you. You _need_ to remember and believe, Ma."

"Henry Daniel Mills!" Fiona growls, advancing on him. "What did you just do? You've ruined my beautiful curse! I should've cursed you along with your dimwitted mother. This ruins everything!"

Henry just smiles at her, a look that makes Emma remember Regina bearing that same expression on many occasions. "Good. You're going down. My moms are gonna stop you."

Emma lets out a sudden cry at the realization that none of this is right, that this isn't how her life is supposed to be. Memories begin to flood in, overwhelming her until she loses consciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma has no idea how much time passes before she groans and blinks her eyes open slowly. She's lying on her back, shivering at the cold concrete, despite being so close to the incinerator. The first thing she focuses on is Henry's worried face. She offers him a tentative smile, and then hears Fiona ranting about her beautiful curse being ruined. Sitting up, Emma's eyes search the room and the sudden group of people until she finds burnt cinnamon eyes and a tremulous smile on blood red lips. The others around her begin to take focus and she dimly recognizes her family, but she only has eyes for her wif-- for _Regina_.

"Emma?"

The sound of that beloved voice is music to her ears, and she's on her feet to race over and pull Regina into her arms with a kiss that she's been dreaming of for three years now. Regina stiffens slightly at first, then relaxes into the kiss with a soft moan, hands tangling in Emma's hair. Her lips taste of bad coffee and cloves. Emma lets out a sob at the sweet sensation of holding Regina close, surrounded by her perfume and her soft curves.

And then it feels like something bursting out of her chest, and she recognizes the sensation for what it is: True Love's Kiss. She leans back to smile at Regina as reality settles in her mind alongside the cursed memories she's believed up to this point. 

"Ma, you did it! You broke the curse!"

Without hesitation, she drops to one knee, taking Regina's hands in hers. "I know this is sudden, but I don't care," she says breathlessly. "We just shared True Love's Kiss and defeated another curse together. I can't do this without you anymore. Regina Mills, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Regina cries out, tears slipping down her cheeks as she kneels in front of Emma, kissing her again. "Yes, Emma."

A cough is heard and they turn as one to see David and Hook grappling with Fiona between them. There's a look of discomfort on both of their faces, more so on Hook's. And then Emma remembers her wedding to him just moments before the Black Fairy cast her curse. Guilt fills her as she meets Regina's eyes again.

"Regina, I--"

Regina's finger presses to her lips as she shakes her head. "We need to take care of the Black Fairy, then we need to talk."

Emma nods slowly, fighting back frustrated tears as she realizes her cursed life can never become a reality. She stands quickly and offers Regina a hand. They turn to face Fiona, hands raised to blast the fairy with their combined magic. Their purple and white magics blend and hit the Black Fairy square in the chest. She lets out an enraged cry then disappears in a cloud of black smoke.

"Is she gone for good?" Henry asks after a long, silent moment.

"I-I guess so?" Emma replies, unable to meet Regina's gaze now. A part of her wants to kiss the other woman again, but she knows that this isn't acceptable when she's a newly married woman.

"We should do a sweep of the town to make sure she's gone for good," Regina replies, voice husky with emotion. "Emma, you and I should--"

"I do think my wife should be with me," Hook says, cutting in smoothly, and Emma can't help but flinch slightly at his tone. 

"He's right, Emma," Regina says softly. "I'll take your mother with me. Zelena and Charming can work together. Everyone else should pair off and pick a section of town to check."

And as quickly as they're reunited, they're separated to restore order and safety to their town.


	10. Epilogue

_~ 6 weeks post-curse ~  
Storybrooke, Maine_

Emma sits at the makeup table in the loft she formerly shared with her parents. Her hands shake as she picks up a makeup brush as Ruby runs a comb through her hair again.

"Emma? Sweetie, are you okay?"

At the sound of her mother's voice, Emma's eyes flutter shut and she shakes her head. The combing of her hair stops and just a few seconds later, Snow's arms wrap around Emma from behind. She leans back into her mother's touch and lets out a shaky sigh. Snow just holds her close and hums softly, occasionally kissing her hair.

"Were, uh, were you this nervous when you married Dad?" she finally whispers.

Snow's gentle laughter is a balm to her soul. "Which time? Remember, I married him twice. Once for Ruth's benefit, which is the one I consider our actually wedding, and then once for the kingdom." She squeezes Emma then. "Don't tell anyone, but I was already pregnant with you when we had the public wedding."

"Mom!"

"It wasn't a secret, Snow," Ruby says with a grin. "Granny and I knew, but we didn't say anything. There was no need in tarnishing the reputations of our Queen and Prince Consort."

"I never knew," Snow replies softly, then kisses Emma's hair again. "But yes, Emma, to answer your question, I was very nervous before I married your father. I knew I loved him more than anything, but I was terrified that he'd be disappointed when he found out King George cursed me to be barren."

"But--"

"It was Ruth's doing. Her last act before she died was to ensure that we were married and would have children."

"I wanted that for Regina in the curse," Emma whispers. "I wanted to give her a child so badly, a baby we could raise together. And that's nothing against Henry, because I love him so much. But I wanted the chance to raise a child with Regina. And now, it's probably too late for that."

"If you really want something, it can happen. After all, you're marrying your True Love today, aren't you?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma fidgets as she stands behind the rows of chairs set up on the beach. She can see so many of the townspeople sitting and talking as they wait for the ceremony to start. Archie is talking with Marco and Granny off to the side, and glances over to smile at her. She smiles back and turns to face her father.

"Thank you for doing this, Dad."

"Did you honestly think I'd say no to the chance of walking my little girl down the aisle to marry her True Love?"

Emma shrugs. "Well, you thought you did that once already, so…"

"And I'll do it as many times as you need me to. That's one of the perks of being your dad, getting to be involved in these things that make you happy."

"Ma?" Henry asks, walking up to them. 

She turns to study him as he comes closer. He's wearing a charcoal tux with a pale blue bowtie and cummerbund, just as David is. There's a blood red rose bud pinned to his lapel that makes her think of Regina's lips. He's put on a growth spurt in the time since the Black Fairy's curse was broken, and is nearly as tall as his grandfather.

"Hey, kid, you clean up nice."

His boyish grin only makes her smile more. "You do, too, Ma. Mom said to tell you she's ready when you are." He leans in to kiss her cheek and whisper, "And she's as nervous as you are, too. It's kinda cute."

Emma laughs at that and kisses his cheek. "If your mom's ready, then it's time for you to go tell Archie we're good to get this show on the road."

Henry grins and nods, then turns to wave at Archie. When he catches the man's attention, he offers a double thumbs up, then turns to face Emma again. "See you up there in a little bit, Ma. Love you."

Emma watches him wander away as the music starts. It's something classical that Regina loves. Emma's slowly learning to appreciate the music because of Regina. Snow appears at her side to kiss her cheek, then kiss David before she starts down the aisle as Emma's witness. Once she's in place, David squeezes Emma's hand.

"Are you ready?"

"I think so."

They make their way down the aisle toward Archie and Snow, and Emma forces herself to breathe slowly and steadily. She's glad that her dress is a simple pale grey, sleeveless dress that ends mid-calf. Its skirt has only a slight princessy billow to it, a concession to her mother's wishes. Her hair is up in a loose braid that hangs over her left shoulder, baby's breath woven among the strands.

As she reaches Archie and her mother, David hugs her and kisses her cheek again, then squeezes Snow's hand and moves to sit down by Granny, who is holding baby Neal. Taking a deep breath, Emma turns around to stare back down the aisle, waiting to see her bride-to-be. She takes in the smiling faces of their guests, grateful to see the approval in their eyes. She does miss seeing Killian's face among them, but knows that he's busy at work back in the Enchanted Forest, helping people rebuild after the devastation of the _Nothing_ that the Black Fairy tried to destroy them with. His easy acceptance of what Emma's heart clearly wanted is still a gift she knows she can never repay, no matter how many lifetimes she has to try. Thankfully, he gets along well with Robin Hood and the Evil Queen, so they can all keep in touch.

The music shifts and Emma feels a shiver run down her spine. She focuses on Zelena coming down the aisle, carrying Robyn and her bouquet. They exchange smiles and Zelena winks at Emma. And then there's a flash of movement and Emma watches as Henry pulls aside the curtain to let Regina step out into the sunlight. She is wearing a sleeveless silk sheath dress in the same pale blue that both she and Emma love, her hair pulled back and decorated with the same baby's breath. Emma remembers sharing some of her cursed memories with Regina, particularly about the colors or lack thereof, and being surprised that they both loved that particular shade.

Regina's eyes meet hers and her face lights up in an incandescent smile. She and Henry make their way down the aisle toward Emma, who feels like her heart will burst out of her chest. Henry kisses Regina's cheek as they stop in front of Emma, then turns to kiss her cheek, as well, before sitting down to take Robyn from Zelena.

"Hi," she says softly to Regina, automatically reaching for her hand.

"Hi yourself," is the equally soft, tremulous reply. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma is grateful to Sister Astrid for filming the ceremony, because once she looked into Regina's eyes, everything else faded into the background. All she can think of is how grateful she is to the Black Fairy for casting a curse that allowed her to realize just how much she's always loved Regina. If not for that, she'd still be married to Killian and miserable. Now, she gets the chance to spend the rest of her life recreating the cursed memories she cherishes with her son and her wife.

"You're awfully quiet, my love," Regina says softly as she comes up to Emma's side, two glasses of champagne in her hands. "Are you all right?"

"Just thinking, I guess," Emma replies as she takes one of the glasses. "So much has happened these past six weeks. It's still kind of a shock that our lives have become what they are. But I wouldn't trade a single second of it."

Regina smiles and leans in to kiss her softly. Emma sighs and rests her forehead against Regina's when they pull back. They stand there quietly for several minutes, the sounds of the reception a background hum that settles them into themselves.

"Hey, I have a present for you," she finally says. "Can I give it to you now?" When Regina nods, Emma flicks her wrist and a large easel draped over with a sheet appears next to them. She holds the sheet and meets Regina's curious gaze. "When the curse broke and the dust settled, it felt good to talk to you and share what I experienced. The day you gave me that art set from the curse is as special to me as when it happened in the curse itself. I'm still not sure how the sketch books remained but the art set disappeared, but I'm okay with that. I have them now and I wanted to do this for you."

She lifts the cloth to reveal a framed drawing of a variation of the food fight from her cursed memories. The fact that Regina and Henry worked to recreate that moment for Emma still renders her speechless, and she wants the drawing to be a reminder to all of them not to waste the good things in their lives.

"Oh, Emma, it's beautiful," Regina whispers, then pulls her into another kiss, holding her wife close this time. Both women pour all of their love into the intimate touch. When they finally break apart, Regina's eyes are glassy with unshed tears. "Is it all right if I put this in my office in Town Hall? I want to remember this, remember what's worth fighting for and coming home to every night."

Emma smiles brightly and nods. "Yes, Regina, I like that idea very much. I can see it when I bring you lunch every day."

"That's right. I can't wait to start penciling in lunch dates with my wife." Regina grins and kisses Emma again, then flicks her wrist, a large manila envelope appearing in her hand. "This is my gift to you." Emma can hear the hesitation in her voice and sees the way she nervously licks at her lips.

"Hmm, what could this be?" she asks as she opens the envelope and pulls out the small sheaf of papers. Reading the top page, her vision gets blurry as tears slip down her cheeks. "R-Regina? Is this for real?"

Regina reaches up to wipe at her wife's tears. "It's for real, Emma. You and I are going to fill these out as soon as we get back from our honeymoon, then we can start the process of finding a child to adopt and raise together. I think I've more than proven with Henry that biology isn't necessary to create a loving family, and I want that with you more than anything, my love."

Emma pulls Regina into a bone crushing hug, crying softly at the thought of her false memories actually coming true. "This is the most incredible gift anyone's ever given me. Thank you, Regina."

"Thank you for loving me and always supporting me, Emma. Let me do the same for you now, too?"

"Always."

Life is a series of moments and choices to be made in those moments. Good or bad, they've all led Emma to this place where she can finally say that she's given everyone their happy endings, including herself and her wife. She wouldn't change a single thing if given the chance.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lost moments [fanart for kairos by ariestess69]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931654) by [Alqua_Taari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alqua_Taari/pseuds/Alqua_Taari)




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